


A Fortnight's Affinity

by TheGodofSmut



Series: The Wonders of Nature [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Claiming Bites, Courting Rituals, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Full Shift Werewolves, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Kissing, Love Bites, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Mates, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Neck Kissing, Non-Human Humanoid Society, Oral Sex, Pheromones, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Sex, Sexual Tension, Shapeshifting, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Submissive Character, Were-Creatures, Werecats, Werewolf Bites, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Werewolves in Heat, Wolf Instincts, Wolf Pack, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodofSmut/pseuds/TheGodofSmut
Summary: Wolves and cougars are supposed to be natural enemies, eternal rivals that would never cross worlds, but what happens when an unfortunate cougar gets tasked with looking after the pup of a mighty wolf pack?
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Wonders of Nature [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674877
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my boyfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+boyfriend).



Winter was an arduous season for the inhabitants of the forest. The trees whose branches were once brimming with leaves during the summer were now stripped bare, standing motionless in the snow like dormant giants. The freezing temperatures had forced the flocks to migrate to warmer weather while the wingless took refuge in their burrows. Few animals stayed out in the biting air for long, only foraging for any meal they could find in the white snow. 

A cougar emerged from his den in the early morning, stretching his limbs and shaking last night's drowsiness away. He had stayed deep in his den for three days, waiting out a harsh blizzard during that time. Now, the sharp pang of hunger had compelled him to step out into the bitter cold. He began his search for prey, silently stalking through the high snow. To the human eye, the feline was nothing short of a wild animal that was living in the conifer forests of Alberta. However, he was much more than an animal, and the Siksikáwa had dubbed him  _ Omahkatayo-ninaa, _ meaning “cougar man”. He earned the nickname from assuming the form of a mountain lion on most days of the year, rarely returning to his bipedal form. He preferred it that way for the simple fact that humans tended to avoid contact with mountain lions, and vice versa. 

Despite the title bestowed onto him by the natives, he had his own given name, borrowed from a male human he’d overheard in the forest when he was younger. He had adopted the man’s name, Anthony, feeling that it suited him better. However, it was unlikely that he would ever be addressed with it by another living creature because he was comfortable with the reclusivity that came with being a cougar. Isolation was the only lifestyle Anthony was accustomed to; he seldom met others of his kind until mating season. He’d stay with the female up until fertilization was completed, then they would both go their separate ways. He wasn’t certain on how many offspring he’d sired, but he’d see one or two of his oldest cubs at times from a distance, recognizing his scent blended to theirs. He never interacted with them or their mother. 

Footprints embedded in the snow a few meters away put Anthony on alert. Judging their size and scent, he concluded that they belonged to a snowshoe hare, a rabbit with long hind legs, large feet, and white fur that helped it blend into the snow. They’re nimble and quick to react, which will make catching it a challenge for Anthony. Normally, he doesn’t hunt fast prey, favoring the larger, bulkier deer and elk, but the opportunity of the hunt motivated him to consider it. If he catches the hare, it could sustain him for a day at most, but if he can’t, then he’ll have to continue his search. 

The hare’s tracks went on for a few hundred feet, Anthony periodically sniffing the prints to determine how fresh the scent was. The tracks had ended in an abrupt manner, snow kicked up from its former perfection and strewn about in uneven clumps. He thoroughly smelled them, his long, bushy tail swishing in frustration as he deciphered where the hare had gone. 

The distinguished ruffling of feathers forced him to turn his head toward the bare trees. A snowy owl sat upon one of the sturdier branches, the hare hooked underneath its long talons, red staining its pure white fur. It stared at him with wide, yellow eyes, keen enough to penetrate into his soul. Anthony hissed, baring his pointed fangs in an attempt to scare the bird away from his rightful meal. The owl simply tightened its grip on the hare’s hide, gazing down at the cougar. 

He growled at the bird’s tenacity and stalked toward the tree to retrieve the meal himself. He leaped onto the trunk, sharp claws latching onto the tree’s rough bark like hooks, and climbed to the owl’s branch. The bird spread its wings in defense, facing Anthony with its piercing gaze as it kept the hare by its side. 

Anthony grabbed a hold onto the branch, his claws scraping into the bark as he pulled himself up. He glowered at the owl, steadily placing one paw in front of the other, maintaining a stable footing on the thin branch. The owl, having anticipated such a bold maneuver from the cougar, stood its ground, opening its wings to their full length to instill a sense of threat. It wouldn’t work on Anthony; he knew the bird would be defensive but it would flee when he attacked it. He just needed to get close enough.

The branch gave a moaning creak as it beared the weight of the cougar’s body. He snarled at the owl, swatting his paw to force it to move. The owl screeched as it reacted, flapping its wings sporadically as it scraped its talons at Anthony’s muzzle. He yowled when a claw had scratched his nose and snatched the hare’s limp body, the branch snapping under the sudden movement. The owl escaped to another part of the tree as Anthony fell to the ground, the bird watching helplessly as he stole its catch. In Anthony’s eyes, that was the law of the forest, taking advantage of another animal when it had already done the heavy work for him. These were trying times, he can’t bring himself to submit to the guilt of depriving the less fortunate. 

It was a cold day that morning. 

* * *

Travelling long distances was exhausting for most animals during the cold winter, especially when they’re in the prime of their budding youth or at the end of life’s rope. Young and old alike get weary from the long treks and can become separated from their group. Some never reunite with their families, forever lost on the trail to their destination. 

A wolf pup stood alone in the snow, his bright, emerald eyes the only feature that distinguished his body from the surrounding white. He whined in distress, his tail tucked between his legs as he scanned the horizon for the rest of his pack. He had only wandered off the trail for a moment, chasing a chipmunk that had just stirred from torpor to begin its forage. When he had looked up, none of his pack was nearby, their scents barely recognizable. 

The pup whimpered and sat on his haunches as he stared in the distance. Didn’t his pack know that he had disappeared? Surely his father would’ve realized that there was a missing pup. If so, then where is he? Why has no one from his pack found him yet? The mass of pensive questions congested his thoughts so he laid in the snow to ease his mind. Relaxation was short-lived, the rumbling growls of his stomach breaking the bleak silence of the forest. 

He scrambled to his paws, the cold air beginning to penetrate through his white fur. His small body racked with momentary shivers as he sought for food. It would be a stroke of luck if he could find another small creature like that chipmunk for him to catch. Most of them were either huddled in their burrows during hibernation or hiding in the trees as they scoured for food. As he searched for small rodents, he heard a tree squirrel scuttling in the barren branches above his head. 

Though he was a wolf pup, he wasn’t entirely helpless. He could transform in and out of wolf form as much as he pleased, assuming the shape of a teenage boy. Hands and feet came in useful when climbing trees, but at a price. The disadvantage of assuming a clumsier form was the absence of stealth. Luckily, he made up for it with the art of invisibility. It required a strenuous amount of focus, so he couldn’t use it for long periods of time or shift his attention to something else, but it worked wonders for stalking prey. 

Despite his best efforts, the tree’s branches were too fragile to hold him and they broke, causing him to fall to the ground with a soft thud. The impact caused him to turn visible again and left a dull, throbbing pain in his head. The squirrel halted its forage and fled to a higher branch, disappearing from Sam’s view.

“Dammit,” he muttered as he examined his ivory skin for any bruises or cuts, returning to wolf form when he was finished. The best he could do was keep moving in hopes of finding an easier target, or his pack. His thoughts drifted to his packmates as he walked through the snow. 

His family, like Sam, had the ability to transform into wolves and vice versa, among other traits. They were called  _ Vilka, _ descendants of the Lithuanian god  _ Kūrėja,  _ aptly meaning “creator” _. _ Each Vilka had a special mark on their shoulders that correlated to their ancestral background. The two main symbols originated from the two defining Vilkan tribes, Kodite and Skjorian. 

Sam’s mother, Sophie, bore the mark of the Skjorians. It was in the shape of a crescent moon, shining silver in the moonlight like the metallic jewelry that humans wore. Whereas the pack’s Gamma, Gunner, carried the mark of the Kodites, a brilliant golden sun that gleamed in the warm rays of sunlight. 

Only in very rare instances did Vilkas have a combination of the two. The only known people who bore those marks were Sam and his father, Gaven. The symbol was the silver crescent moon within the golden sun, reminiscent of the moon's light and dark side on certain nights. Both of their symbols were encased in a black paw print, similar to a wolf’s. In certain lighting, they had different tints. Under the sun, they shone gold, while in the moonlight, they flashed silver. 

Sam reflected on the folktales that his father would tell him when he was a child. Most of them were about the feats that Gaven had accomplished in his younger years. Some tales were about  _ Kūrėja _ and how he had created Gaven to unite the Kodites and Skjorians when they were in a state of polarity, gifted with the traits of both packs. It left Sam in awe to remember that such a powerful being was his father, and that he also carried a variation of those powers. Among the ability to turn invisible, he could manipulate energy itself and store it in his core, supplying it for later use. Telepathy was another feature, useful for when he had to communicate in private. 

The sound of a twig snapping put Sam on alert, his fluffy ears perking as he searched for the source of the noise. He sat low in the snow, waiting for the thing that had stepped on the stick to pass. 

Anthony, in cougar form, was travelling back to his den, carrying the hare in his jaws. Its head hung limp in his mouth, its beady eyes glazed over and bulged out of their sockets. He shook the twig’s broken pieces from his paw and continued, giving his surroundings a brief glance. He didn’t notice Sam’s body blended into the white snow. 

Sam had a mixture of feelings. On the one hand, he felt an overwhelming sense of fear as he watched the cougar pass him, He had heard stories of pups being snatched by mountain lions and packs being silently stalked by the big felines. On the other hand, the pangs of hunger urged him to follow Anthony and steal the scraps of food that were left. There was also the peculiar sense of security that emanated from the cougar. In the end, it was his hunger that forced him out of hiding and he trotted behind the cougar, being mindful that he could still be killed. 

Anthony had seen the pup following and growled, his threat muffled by the rabbit’s fur but still audible. Sam persisted, looking at the cougar with weary anticipation. They walked for a few meters before Anthony dropped the hare, guarding it with his body. Then he hissed at Sam, ears pinned against his head and teeth protruding from his jaws. 

“Please, I’m so hungry,” the pup begged, utilizing his ability of telepathic communication. 

Anthony’s round ears perked as he stared at Sam, his body frozen like the icicles that dangled from the trees. He had never met any creature who could project their voice into his mind and couldn’t formulate a reaction within the first few minutes. 

“You can speak, right?” Sam asked, sitting down in the snow. 

“Yes,” Anthony replied with a disgruntled snuff. “Now leave me be, regardless of your advanced sentience.” 

The cougar picked up his meal and continued his journey. Sam stood up and walked beside him, his tail held high in the air. “Something tells me you also have advanced sentience. A normal cougar would’ve torn me to shreds by now.” 

“I am a normal cougar,” he said. 

“Your scent is reminiscent of one but your mannerisms are not.” 

Anthony grunted, squeezing the hare’s neck tightly in his jaws. “What do you want, puny pup?”

“Firstly, I am not a  _ puny pup,” _ Sam replied, yapping with indignation. “Secondly, I’ve already stated that I’m very hungry.” 

“Why is your starving my problem?” Anthony asked, looking back at Sam. “Go back to whatever pack you came from and ask your Alpha for food. This is my kill.” 

The pup’s ears wilted at the mention of his pack, his tail tucked between his legs. Sam whimpered with grief. “I don’t know where they are…” 

Anthony gave a short growl at the response. He didn’t have time to babysit a lost wolf pup, much less was he willing to share his meal with one. The unspoken rule of the forest that he followed wouldn’t allow it. Sympathy to the less fortunate led to an internal vice. A vice led to the ruin of the austerity of resolve. 

“You shouldn’t be following me,” he spoke after a few, long moments of silence. “Cougars and wolves don’t get along.”

“I’m not a traditional wolf,” Sam replied, trotting further through the snow to walk alongside Anthony.

“Then why do you assume the characteristics of one?” The cougar catechized, his tone carrying a certain smugness about it.

“If you should know, my form’s appearance is only surface-level. A traditional wolf couldn’t project its voice into your thoughts.” 

“Yes, I was wondering how you’re doing that,” Anthony pondered. “Even so, I don’t desire your company, pup. I favor being in the presence of myself.”

“Well, I’m not leaving until I have a portion of your hare,” Sam yapped, playfully leaping toward the hare and nipping at its foot. It was so close yet so far away, its tantalizing scent lingering by his nose.

Anthony lifted his head higher where the pup couldn’t reach and snarled.  _ “Do not touch it!” _

“Well you don’t have to shout it,” Sam mumbled, his tail held limply behind his legs. Anthony merely grunted, stalking through the high snow as they traveled back to his den.

* * *

Gaven sat firmly on his haunches, his paws spread out among the snow as he overlooked the hunting ground’s clearing. He watched his subordinates carry out their duties with a solemn glare, his ice blue eyes hardened like sapphires. He couldn’t comprehend how he had let this happen; Sam was walking by his side during the long journey. He had only shifted his attention for a moment to speak to Gunner and Sam had vanished. It placed Gaven into a state of numb silence for the rest of the trek as he contemplated on what to do. When they had arrived at the hunting grounds, he had immediately sent Gunner with a search party out into the bleak forest multiple times, but each hunt turned up empty. 

Sophie approached her mate with a tender lick on his cheek. She sat down next to Gaven, gazing at his stiffened features with empathy. “Have faith in Gunner’s party. Sam will come back to us soon.” 

“I don’t understand, he had been right beside me,” Gaven spoke, avoiding her clear, violet eyes. “I looked away for not even a full minute and he was gone. None of the searches have proved fruitful and for once, I’m at a loss of what to do.” 

“The best solution we can do is to wait.” 

He faced her with scrutinizing cynicism. “Wait for what? For him to be slaughtered by hungry predators and find his corpse stripped bare to his bones?” 

“You’ve always focused on the negative outcomes of predicaments,” Sophie said, pressing her muzzle against his. “Perhaps you should put your trust in a positive one.”

“Blind trust will not bring Sam back to us,” he grunted. Then, an idea came to him, and he gazed into Sophie’s eyes. “You have the amethyst eyes of the Oracles. You would not be blind to foresee the events of our son’s return!”

“That is a very high demand from you, Alpha,” she replied. “You know what would have to be done for me to fulfill it.”

“It’s worth the reward of knowing if our son is still alive and with us,” he insisted. 

“You know, we wouldn’t have to worry about this at all if you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Sam.” 

“I know, don’t you think that I would’ve realized that by now?” He huffed, pointed ears jutting forward with agitation. 

“What do you mean,  _ now? _ You hadn’t realized it sooner?” She accused, her purple eyes boring into Gaven’s blue ones. 

“I was trying to figure out what to do!” He snapped. 

“You need to try harder, apparently.” 

“You dare to berate your Alpha like a small pup?” He demanded, standing on all fours as his hackles prickled with fury. 

“I do,” Sophie replied. “It’s  _ your _ fault that our only son is missing. Oh, the poor boy is probably starving and we can’t help him...” 

_ “Don’t tell me what I already know!” _ Gaven barked, his lips curling to reveal sharp, white fangs. A shockwave of his core energy had erupted from his body, blasting a strong gust of air outwards. The winds blew Sophie’s fur and her violet eyes cast a bright, lavender flame. The passing wave of energy caused the surrounding shrubs and lichen on the trees to have an unnatural growth spurt. When Gaven had realized what had transpired, he smirked at her cleverness and relaxed. 

The flames in Sophie’s eyes continued to dance vividly as she spoke in an enchanted tone. “Your mind will be put to sleepless rest and to restful sleep. The snowdrop’s glossy buds will have bloomed, visited by the humming bee in the coming months. His safe return will mark a new milestone for the pack.” 

The lilac fire died and her eyes returned, focusing on Gaven as she awaited his response. He stared back, breaking apart the prophecy in his thoughts. “What significance does the snowdrop have in regards to our son?” 

“That is all that  _ Kūrėja  _ has permitted me to observe,” Sophie answered with a bow of her head. “Forgive me for my searing words from before.” 

“Do not apologize, your goading has produced some information about Sam's future,” he replied with an assuring lick to her muzzle. 

“What do we do now?” 

“Like you said, the best solution is to wait.” 


	2. Chapter Two

Anthony and Sam arrived at the den, a shallow hole that was carved into the jagged rocks of a small cliff hundreds of years ago. The sun had begun its daily descent into the horizon, fiery hues of red and orange blending into the cool blues and purples, the last remaining sunlight turning the broken rocks to gold. Anthony stopped at the entrance of his den and turned to Sam, the amber rays of light changing his tan fur to bronze. 

“Stay,” he said before walking into the cave. 

“Are you tidying your den?” The pup curiously asked, his tail wagging as he stood mere inches from the entrance. 

“No,” he answered, laying down on the cool stone and pinning the hare’s body underneath his paws. “I just don’t want you bothering me while I eat.” 

This caused Sam’s ears to fold with annoyance. He ignored Anthony’s order and stepped into the den, approaching the cougar. “I am not leaving until I receive a portion of meat.” 

“You will be standing there for a long time, then,” Anthony replied with indifference, sinking his fangs into the hare’s flesh and tearing a chunk from the hide. He chewed it for a few seconds before swallowing it. 

“You’re selfish,” Sam whined, trotting toward the cougar. Anthony shifted his body so his back was guarding the hare from the pup. 

“You’re stubborn,” Anthony retorted, burying his muzzle into the cavity he had carved out of the hare’s body. He stripped away its viscera, small pieces of meat dripping from the bundle of entrails in his mouth. “I thought I told you to stay outside.” 

“I don’t  _ want _ to stay outside!” Sam pouted, stomping his little paws on the ground. 

The cougar ignored his whines as he continued to clean the hare’s organs out, savagely consuming them and smearing blood onto his face and paws. He stopped after a few minutes to lick his chops and front paws, cleaning between the calloused paw pads. Then he stood up and moved to the deepest, darkest part of the den, the hare’s body stripped of all its internal organs. It lay there on the cold rock, hollowed out like an old tree. 

Sam immediately beelined toward the carcass, taking any remnants of flesh that remained on the hare’s bones. He ate them desperately, denying himself the satisfaction of savoring the meat’s juicy flavor. He hungrily licked the bones, gnawing at them as he tried to scrape off as much flesh as he could. 

“Pathetic,” Anthony scoffed, his slate-grey eyes reflecting silver in the darkness, the rest of his body blanketed by shadows. “You couldn’t even hunt for yourself if you hadn’t found me.” 

Sam looked up at the cougar, scowling at him with narrowed eyes. “I  _ could _ but this form isn’t suitable for hunting yet.” 

Anthony grimaced, his bottom fangs partially revealed from underneath his lips. “What do you mean, form?” 

“Did you honestly think that I was a regular wolf?” The pup asked. The cougar didn’t reply, so Sam continued. “Telepathy isn’t my only ability, you know.” 

Anthony stood up, approaching Sam with wide, silent strides. His shoulders undulated as he walked, showing off the brawny muscle underneath his fur. He stopped just short of the pup and leaned down, a low growl emanating from his throat. “Who are you?” 

“Why should I tell you?” Sam answered smugly. 

“Who. Are. You,” Anthony repeated, curling his lip back to reveal the top fangs as he got dangerously close to the pup’s neck. “I will not hesitate to kill you if I feel that you’re threatening me, even if you’re a child.” 

“If you tried to kill me, you wouldn’t have enough time to enjoy it,” Sam replied. “I’m small but I’m not weak.” 

Anthony snarled viciously, a loud growl that sounded like someone had revved up a chainsaw, and turned away, going back to his spot in the darkness. “Death is preferable compared to babysitting a Vilka’s pup.” 

Sam smirked. “So you know  _ what _ I am.” 

“I wouldn’t forget a scent like that,” Anthony growled, laying down once more. “I know what your kind is, and I know that I would rather stay as far away from them as possible. They were a scourge for the others, and you’re a scourge for  _ me.” _

“What did I ever do to you?” The pup frowned. 

“You didn’t  _ do _ anything, you just exist as one of them.” 

“I don’t understand,” Sam replied, looking at the cougar with naivety. Anthony didn’t respond for a few, long moments, shifting his eyes away from the wolf pup’s gaze. Then, he spoke to Sam. “It happened a decade ago…”

* * *

A lone cougar and her two cubs skulked through the forest in the dead of the cool summer night. Her cubs chased each other as they walked, pinning the other down and nipping one another’s ears. They tumbled in the grass, and the larger cub pushed his sibling onto his back. 

“Pinned ya,” he chuckled as he looked down at his brother with a smug grin. 

“Get offa me, Wematin!” The smaller cub groaned as he squirmed underneath Anthony’s weight. 

“Naw, Togquos, I think I’ll keep you there forever.” 

“Keep moving, boys,” their mother said, her voice worn with exhaustion as she limped past them. They were travelling to a new territory, having been kicked out of their previous one by a strong male cougar. The male had gotten into a brutal skirmish with the mother before they left, leaving a deep gash in her thigh. The cubs were left untouched on the condition that they left their hunting ground immediately. 

“Yes, Ma,” the cubs replied, jogging behind her. They crossed each other’s paths as they rubbed heads, sniffing each other and giving an affectionate lick. 

They soon walked in tense silence, keeping quiet as if they thought one more word would shatter everything. Their eyes frequently glimpsed at the wound on their mother’s leg, unwillingly noting each ripped portion of skin and matted fur which was clumped with dried blood. They looked to each other, ears folding with concern.

“Ma looks really bad,” Togquos mumbled out of their mother’s earshot. 

“She just needs a lotta rest,” Wematin said, though he knew it was worse than that. 

“What do we do if she dies?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Their mother came to a stop, holding her head high as she sniffed the air. “Wait.” 

“What is it?” Togquos asked. Wematin hushed him and gestured to the obscure figure that was hidden in the bushes.  It was a buck, but the lack of antlers would cause one to mistake it for a rather large doe. They approached it, the rancid scent of death growing more pungent as they got close. 

“Look, Togquos - it’s antlers weren’t shed,” Wematin said as he examined the buck’s head. “They were broken off.” 

“It looks like it’s been gutted,” the smaller twin added, pointing to the long slit that ran vertically down the buck’s underside. “But who did it?” 

“While we don’t know who, I suppose we should thank them for their generosity in abandoning their kill,” Wematin replied. “Look, even Ma thinks it’s safe to eat.” 

He gestured to their mother, who had tentatively sniffed the gaping maw in the deer’s belly and burrowed her face into it, taking anything that was left. Her cubs joined her in the scavenge, ferociously devouring what remained with a newfound vigor. 

Togquos lifted his head from the carcass and looked toward his brother. “Are you  _ sure _ it’s safe to eat this? I smell other predators on its fur.” 

The small cub was right, Wematin found as he deeply sniffed the buck. Masked by the overlying stench of death was the combined scent of other animals. They were similar to a wolf’s scent but not quite. 

“I still say it’s fine,” the bigger cub replied. He saw his brother’s doubtful glare and continued. “Listen, if someone actually killed this, wouldn’t they have come back for it? It just doesn’t make sense to leave your own kill abandoned in the forest.” 

“Well...I suppose that you’re right,” Togquos said, though he was hesitant to keep eating. 

“Come on, there’s nothing to worry about,” his brother said as he stripped a small piece of flesh from the buck’s thigh. “See? Everything is fi-” 

A hushed mix of voices permeated through the dense shrubbery and the cub fell silent and crouched in the grass, his sibling and mother mirroring his actions. The voices appeared to be all male, their range coming close enough for Wematin to hear their words. 

“Why are we here again? We’ve already harvested its organs and antlers,” one said. 

“The Alpha wanted us to retrieve the rest of it after the sun went down,” the other answered. 

“What if the carcass has already been picked clean by scavengers?” 

“Then we take what’s left.” 

As they approached closer to the buck, Wematin saw their shadowy appearances looming over them in the darkness as they stood on two legs. One was taller than the other, yet much skinnier. His head was covered in a thick mass of curly ebony hair that nearly concealed his bright blue eyes. His skin was almost as pale as the snow that blanketed the forest during the winter months. The other male was tanner, with auburn hair that stopped short of his shoulders and luminous green eyes. Both had shining crescent moons on their right shoulders, their marks reflecting silver in the dim moonlight. 

“What do we do?” Togquos whined to his brother. 

“I-I dunno…” Wematin answered. 

He glanced at their mother, who had assumed a defensive posture now as the two strangers came near. She shielded her cubs from them as she bared her sharp fangs and hissed loudly.

“What should we do if there’s a cougar and her two cubs guarding it?” The shorter male asked as he kept his distance. 

“Relax, Jacob, they’re just normal cougars. If it comes down to it, we can just kill them and bring their bodies back, too,” the taller one replied, acting more boldly than his companion. He picked up a long stick from the ground and thrusted it toward the cougar, poking her side. It provoked a snarl from her and she tried to knock the stick away. He tried again, jabbing it just mere inches away from her wound. 

“That’s enough!” She shouted as her former appearance burned away to reveal her human form. Though her face was beautiful, years of watching over her children had aged her and left her exhausted. She firmly grabbed onto the stick and pulled it from the male’s hands. “Why do you pester my children as they feed?” 

“Tom, it’s a shifter!” Jacob whispered as he tugged at his friend’s sleeve. 

“I know,” the taller male grunted, yanking his arm away. He looked at the woman and clasped his hands together. “This is all a misunderstanding but that deer you’re eating belongs to us.” 

“Like hell I’m going to surrender a meal like this,” she hissed, walking toward them and holding the stick in front of her. “Three days have I been searching for something to feed to my cubs. I’m not letting you take this away from them without a fight.” 

“Alright, listen,” Tom growled. “You’re standing on our territory and we won’t hesitate to force you to leave. So I suggest you put down the stick and take your cubs with you or this will get  _ real  _ ugly.” 

She snapped the stick in two and pointed the splintered end toward his chest. “Try it.”

Tom sighed and wrestled the weapon from her grasp and forced her to the ground, planting his calloused palm on the nape of her neck to pin her. “Leave now and maybe we’ll let you go with a few bruises.” 

“Never!” She snarled as she violently clawed at his wrist, leaving jagged cuts in his skin. 

He hissed in pain and cradled his hand to his chest. He gave a sharp glare to his partner. “Don’t just stand there, do something! Grab her cubs!” 

“Oh, right,” Jacob replied in a hurry, reaching into the bushes for the twins. His fingers brushed against the bigger cub’s fur and were clamped in his jaws mere seconds later. He ripped his hand away and stared at the cub. “You little brat!” 

“You gotta leave,” Wematin urged as he pushed his brother away. “Go!” 

“I’m not just gonna leave you and Ma here,” the smaller cub declared, resisting his brother’s shoves. 

“Don’t worry about us! Just  _ leave!” _ Wematin growled, knocking his brother deeper into the bushes. Jacob had reached into the brush again and grabbed him by the nape. 

“I got one!” He shouted confidently as he raised the cub into the air. 

“Great, now where’s the other one?” Tom demanded. He was holding the stick by his side, the broken end dripping with crimson blood. 

“Um…”

“You _ lost _ it?” 

“This one was the only cub that I saw!” 

“There were two cubs, you incompetent fool!” 

Wematin watched as the two males bickered, the sound of opportunity knocking at the front door. He assumed his other form and broke free from Jacob’s hand, rolling onto the grass with a soft  _ thud. _ He had only caught a glimpse of his mother’s still body as he sprinted away on two legs, ducking underneath the low-hanging branches and leaping over uprooted trees. 

Jacob was about to chase after the boy when his partner had put his arm out to halt him. “We should go after them. What if they come back when they’re full-grown?” 

“Let the boys go, Jacob,” Tom replied as he let his arm fall. “They’ll die before they reach maturity.” 

* * *

“They killed your mother?” Sam asked, tilting his head sideways to look into Anthony’s averted gaze. He had only inched forward a little toward the cougar out of sympathy, still keeping his distance from the disgruntled feline. 

“They might as well have killed my brother, too, for all the good that it did,” Anthony grunted. 

“I’m...sorry for your loss,” the pup said hesitantly, not entirely certain if the other deserved his consolation. 

The cougar growled and turned away. “Don’t be. I don’t need your pity.” 

“Then why did you tell me that story?”

“So you can understand why I  _ despise _ your kind so much,” Anthony spat back, an angry snarl underscoring his pain.

Sam’s gaze hardened and he huffed at the cougar’s cantankerous attitude, his breath creating a small cloud of white smoke. “Did you happen to see their marks?”

“What marks?” Anthony grunted as he faced the pup.

“Every Vilka has a mark, either a sun or a moon. In special cases, they have both of those,” Sam replied hastily, not wanting to bother diving deep into the ancestral history of his race. “Did they have a sun or a moon?”

“They had moons on their right shoulders. I don’t see how this is supposed to-”

_ “Quiet,”  _ Sam urged. “Stop talking for a moment so I can explain. You were attacked by Skjorians. However, it’s highly unlikely they would’ve come from my pack because our scouts work in dyads. In my pack, Kodites and Skjorians pair together for the advantage of one being stronger than the other at any given time of day.”

Anthony glared at him, having never been interrupted by any living being before. “So?”

“So they were probably Gerbiamas’s scouts given the time period that you mentioned,” Sam answered. “He was the Alpha of the Skjorians a decade ago.”

“Then who is the current Alpha?” Anthony glowered as he rose to his paws and stretched his muscular limbs out. He stalked toward the pup and laid down on his side with a hard  _ plop. _ “I want blood to spill in the exact same way it did for me.” 

“Vengeance will reap no rewards for you,” Sam replied as he moved away from the cougar. “You wouldn’t survive if you were to avenge your family. Your power is feeble compared to the Alpha’s, much less his pack fighting as a unit.” 

Anthony growled in response. “Death comes before dishonor, and I have been dishonored for too long.” 

“You should think of different ways to satisfy your anger that won’t result in unnecessary bloodshed,” the pup sighed. “Claw at a tree or do some hunting. Don’t let blind fury lead you to your death.” 

The cougar grunted and looked down at Sam. “How does an immature pup show more wisdom than the wisest of shamans?” 

Sam shrugged. “I guess it just passed down to me from my father.” 

“I still think that you’re a nuisance,” Anthony snorted in amusement, washing his front paws with slow, broad licks. “Maybe not as much as the two - what were they called?”

“Skjorians,” the pup finished. 

“Yeah,” Anthony replied. “The two Skjorians who killed my mother.” 

“If it helps ease your pain, their Alpha would punish them accordingly if he had found out what they’ve done.” 

The cougar grunted and lifted his head, his ears pinned back with scorn. “The only way to truly ease my pain is if it were me who was punishing them.” 

“Didn’t you say that your family were shapeshifters?” Sam asked curiously. 

“Yes? I don’t see how that relates with my desire to ki-” 

Sam silenced him and got up, spreading his paws out on the cold stone. He commanded with his mind what he desired and his body obeyed on a whim. Snow white fur revealed porcelain skin and slender limbs. The head that laid bare before now sprouted feathery, blond hair from its roots, nearly concealing the clear, emerald eyes that shone underneath his forehead. Small paws transformed into slim hands with long, delicate fingers. The boy crouched down in front of the cougar and spoke aloud with coaxing words. “It’s your turn, shifter.” 

Anthony shook his head in refusal. “I do not reveal my form to strangers.” 

“We do not have to be friends, but we do not have to be complete strangers,” Sam replied. “My name is Samuel, but you may call me Sam.” 

The cougar grunted with his last moments of reluctance and stood up before the boy, allowing Sam to bask in the presence of his rare form. 


	3. Chapter Three

To say that he was only handsome would be an understatement to the man of magnificence that stood hunched over in front of Sam. He was striking to the deepest core of his being and had the type of face that caused heads to turn and mouths to drop. His skin was polished golden like the slick honey that trickled from the beehives during the hot summer, gray eyes that flashed silver in the light and could peer through you against your will. His tousled brunette hair, thick and lustrous and cascading down his back, concealed the better portions of his defined face like curtains. 

That face.... It flaunted strong cheekbones that accentuated the sharp angle of his jawline, with a crooked nose that added realism to the whole picture. He had dark eyebrows that sloped downwards in a serious expression. With long, flowing hair and full, pink lips that scorched the skin it kissed, his effeminate face was a beautiful betrayal to the rest of his body. 

It was that massive physique that drew the eye in and held it there no matter how hard it begged to be released. He had the type of body that made men and women alike longing to be underneath it. It was hulking, a swollen mass of hard muscle that rippled under the skin with the slightest movement. The strength of his body showed in the twining cords of muscle that shaped it; strong arms, hardened thighs, a broadened chest that led one’s gaze down toward the toned abdomen and further if he weren’t wearing a flowing loincloth. 

In all of Anthony’s grandeur, that wasn’t what Sam saw. Sam saw his disheveled appearance, the leaves and dirt and various other gunk from the forest that adorned his unruly mess of brown hair. He saw the feral glint that shone in Anthony’s eyes, the dried mud that was smeared across his face and chest and caked on his skin. He saw that the only thing this man had truly known from birth was survival. He saw that the absence of nurture, of the warm embrace of family and the good graces of a friend, had forced Anthony to become a precocious, solitary man. Sam wondered if there was the slightest hint of giving someone the benefit of a doubt left in him. 

“What are you staring at?” Anthony demanded. The tone of his voice was deep, the type of baritone pitch that resonated in the chambers of one’s mind. He tucked the long strands of hair that covered his face behind his ear. A few of them rebelled and fell in front of his eyes. 

“Nothing,” the boy replied, though they both knew he was lying. “You know, you’re rather... _ Herculean _ for someone who lives in the forest.” 

“Am I supposed to look as emaciated as you do?” He retorted, standing to full height. He towered over Sam, more than a head taller than the boy. 

“Ouch. I’ll have you know that I’m a normal size for my height and age.” 

“You didn’t tell me that you were twelve,” Anthony sneered as he sat down on the ground, a shiver running down his spine when his skin touched the cold stone.

“You’re wrong, actually. I’m sixteen,” Sam replied when he knelt down and reached for a small stone. He stroked his thumb along its rough surface as he examined it closely. “I’ve just started to reach the age of maturity for my species.” 

“I hated when I was sixteen,” the larger male grunted, folding his legs toward his large chest and wrapping his arms around his knees. “The raging hormones and the stray hairs appearing on random parts of my body. Those were the worst.” 

“How old are you now?” Sam asked. 

“I’m almost nineteen,” he answered. His ear had failed to keep the majority of his hair at bay and it fell forward, shielding the right side of his face. 

“You never told me what your name was,” Sam said as he crept forward and reached his hand out to move the man’s hair away from his face. Anthony was hesitant to the touch, emitting a short growl upon contact. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. Was it Wematin?”

_ “Don’t call me that!” _ Anthony barked, causing the boy to flinch. Then he took a deep breath in and regained his composure. “I don’t like to be called by that name.” 

“Why not?” 

The male groaned and hid his face between his knees, as if it brought him great distress to explain. “My name - my  _ real _ name - means brother. My sibling, Togquos, his name means twin.”

Sam nodded in slow affirmation to his words, denying to give it voice so Anthony would continue. “I was ashamed to even hear my own name after that day. I thought I had failed my brother, so it was physically nauseating to bear living under my birth name.” 

“Then what do you call yourself now?” The boy asked. 

“I’ve chosen the name Anthony.” 

* * *

Morning arrived slowly and early, the nascent rays of golden light peeking out over the horizon like a shy child. White bellies of clouds turned pink, blushing at the warm touch of the sun. The silence of the night had carried over into dawn, the stillness of the forest preserving what had been left from the previous day. 

Sam’s sleep had been light, each of his senses alert to the slightest change of the wind’s direction to the thinnest twig snapping underneath an animal’s foot. Sometimes he wondered if it was worth the trouble of trying to sleep. He sighed and opened his eyes, eyelashes faintly batting against his lids as he acclimated to the bright light that lit the cave. He glanced over to the sleeping male that laid a few feet away from him, examining Anthony’s face more closely. 

His features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased his skin when he frowned were replaced by a smooth complexion. The rest of his body was still except for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, rising and falling with each shallow breath he took. It was as though the terrors of Anthony’s mind had entered the same dormant state that his body did. 

Without opening his eyes, the larger male’s voice spoke up. “Stop watching me sleep.” 

“How did you know that I was looking at you?” Sam asked, shifting so he was leaning on his elbows. 

Anthony’s eyes finally snapped open, the clear, gray orbs focusing on Sam’s green ones. “I just know.” 

The boy wasn’t satisfied with the vague answer but he didn’t press the subject any further. “Is it time for us to start the day?” 

Anthony grunted as he sat up. “What do you mean, us?” 

“Naturally, I assumed that I’d help with your daily chores since I’m present,” Sam shrugged. 

“No,” Anthony said, standing up and stretching his limbs. Sam heard an audible crack when the male had rolled his neck. “What we’re doing today is leading you to your pack.” 

“At this point, that would be utterly useless,” the boy sighed. “Not even I know where they are right now.”

“Do you know where they were headed?” 

“To our other hunting ground, but it’s a long way from here.” 

“Stand up,” Anthony ordered, assuming his feline shape. “An early head start will give us a bit of time to catch up.” 

Sam got to his feet and mirrored the male’s action, his former size now reduced to his smaller form. He followed Anthony when the other had left the den. “You seem awfully anxious to get rid of me.” 

The cougar snuffed in dismissal of the accusation. “I value my solitude, that’s all.” 

“If you  _ truly _ valued it, you wouldn’t have allowed me to stay in your den overnight,” Sam objected. 

Anthony growled. “Maybe I didn’t want you to freeze to death outside so I wouldn’t have to bury your corpse in the snow.” 

The boy hummed in response. “Even if you had left me outside, I wouldn’t have frozen to death. I can produce large quantities of heat to warm my body.” 

“Should I remind you that I told you to stay outside and yet you came into my den anyways?” 

“I don’t seem to recall,” the pup replied innocently. 

The cougar scoffed. “Right. Just tell me what direction your pack was originally going before you had decided to bother me.” 

Sam looked around their environment, picking out what looked familiar to him. “I think we were headed east.” 

“How far east?” 

“To Manitoba.” 

Anthony grumbled. “That’s a bit far from Alberta.” 

“I didn’t choose where the hunting grounds are,” Sam huffed. 

“It will take us at least a week to travel there. Two weeks if we’re slow.” 

The pup ran in front of Anthony and trotted ahead as he spoke. “If you’re going to be stuck with me for that long, you might as well say goodbye to being isolated.” 

The cougar growled in reluctant agreement. “If you’re not extremely annoying during that time, then maybe I’ll consider it.” 

“It’s a deal, then,” Sam replied, his tail wagging slowly with content. 

“Don’t push it.” 

The pup gave Anthony a smug glance from the corner of his eye and slowed down to be at equal pace beside him. “Since we’re going to be walking for a long time, I suppose that means we should get to know each other.” 

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I’ve already told you that I watched my own mother’s death. What more could you be asking for?” 

“No! I mean, I want to know the side of you that doesn’t hate Vilkas or social interactions.” 

“Well, I think those two things sums up my personality already.” 

Sam sighed with impatience. “Quit with the sarcasm and just tell me about yourself.” 

“That depends on what you want to know,” Anthony replied with a smirk. 

“Tell me how you decided to name yourself Anthony.” 

* * *

The air was crisp and dry, much like the brittle leaves that clung to their branches. Down they came like molten rain; reds, oranges, and yellows painted the clear, blue sky like a canvas. The forest floor was ablaze with warm colors, the fire that announced the arrival of winter. 

It was mid-October, three years after the cursed day that had befallen Wematin. He was alone for the first time in his life and he agonized over his mother’s death every day. He had hoped, prayed, that Togquos survived and was somewhere in the wilderness, suffering through the same pain Wematin was. He had taken a vow a few weeks ago, a vow that, when he grew older, would claim retribution for his family. He would hunt down the two Vilkas that had stolen everything that he held dear to him. He knew their names - they had been burned into his memory since that day. He would inflict the same pain onto them, blood for blood. If he died, then so be it. 

The chilling croak of a raven sent a shiver down Wematin’s spine. He growled at it, hoping to drive the bird away. The raven croaked again in a sequence of high-pitched squawks, as though it were laughing at the cub. Humiliated, he turned away and stalked into the thicket, his head held low in front of him. 

Past the dense brush was a small land clearing that contained things Wematin had never seen before. From the corner of his eye, he saw an enormous, metallic body that seemed to dominate the land around it, with rustic blue skin and a wide muzzle. He shuddered when he realized that he could peer through its translucent flank. A few feet away from the monstrous animal was a smaller creature with a green hide and a gaping maw. There was a tantalizing scent that wafted from its mouth and hunger won over Wematin’s better judgement. Slowly, he crept toward it, the scent lassoing him in. He would’ve secured the bait that laid inside the dormant beast’s mouth if he hadn’t been struck by it. 

“Go on, shoo!” It shouted, something aggressively waving at him from inside the mouth. When he looked closer, he saw it was a female human; Wematin had only heard tales of them from his mother, but never seeing one caused him to speculate if they even existed. According to his mother, humans were the same as them, except they were eternally bound to their bipedal form. 

As Wematin scurried to the bushes, another human appeared beside her, this one being male. “Take it easy, it’s just a mountain lion cub.” 

“That’s exactly why it needs to leave, Anthony!” She scolded. “If a cub is here, that means its mother is nearby!” 

“No, I’ve read about mountain lions, Jill,” the male said as he left the mouth and searched for Wematin. “Cubs usually stay with their mother for two years. This one looked like it was about three or four years old.” 

“It doesn’t matter  _ how _ old it is, it’s still a mountain lion!” Jill exclaimed, staying put. “Don’t you dare try to pet it!” 

“I’m not, I just want to get a closer look at it,” Anthony hissed quietly as he slowly crept toward the bush that concealed Wematin. He stopped in front of the bush and knelt down, peeping through the dense clutter of leaves. Partially seeing the cub’s face, he whispered, “Oh, you’re not so bad. Were you trying to get to our venison?” 

Anthony placed his hand on the ground, sticking his finger out and wiggling it in front of Wematin. He winced and lightly chuckled when the cub’s claws pricked his skin as he reached for the man’s hand. “You’ve got some sharp, tiny claws there, don’t you? Alright, don’t rip my skin open.” 

“Don’t play with it! It’s a wild animal, it could have diseases!” Jill shrieked. 

“I’m going to clean my hands when I’m done, relax!” Anthony yelled back. He turned back to Wematin and patted the dry dirt as a signal for the cub to come out. “I won’t let Jill smack you with her rolled-up magazine again.” 

Wematin watched him return to the green beast’s giant mouth and decided to leave while the man wasn’t watching. He had no intention to stay any longer now that he had seen what a human was with his own eyes. They really were like him, but their scent was putrid and those monstrous animals that accompanied them were off-putting. 

There was only one thing that he found satisfactory: the man’s name. Wematin had been suffering underneath his name for three years, the significance associated with its meaning bringing his psyche to its knees. He needed to change it. With a mental pledge to his mind and soul, he promised that he would never live underneath his birth name during the years that he lived, but instead he would be referred to as Anthony. 


End file.
